


Balance Requires Motion

by deepestfathoms



Category: Six - Marlow/Moss
Genre: Belly Rubs, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Maternal Instinct, Mom Friend Catherine of Aragon, Mom Friend Katherine Howard, Motion Sickness, One Shot, UK Tour Six, Vomiting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-15
Updated: 2020-08-15
Packaged: 2021-03-06 03:01:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,554
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25906273
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deepestfathoms/pseuds/deepestfathoms
Summary: Having motion sickness when you travel by tour bus is not very fun.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 39





	Balance Requires Motion

They were on a tour bus.

Again.

Tour buses weren’t always the main mode of transportation, usually the group would carpool or drive in pairs, but to save gas on the relatively short drive to the new location for their next few shows, the bus was decided to be used. 

Nobody really minded the bus. Everyone got a seat to themselves, although several of them usually ended up packing into one to talk or play games to pass the time. Right now, the only one alone was Joan, huddled against the window to watch the sights, Aragon, who was asleep, and Maria, who was driving. Howard and Bessie were sitting together, sharing earbuds and watching a movie on Howard’s laptop. Maggie, Anne, and Cleves were playing a card game, while Cathy and Jane were doing some tutoring lessons, as Cathy was often trying to help Jane increase her education.

All was calm.

And then the bus jostled, and Joan’s stomach churned.

God, it hurt. Every movement of the bus made her stomach ache with tremendous pain, sloshing the little contents inside like the waves at sea. She’s thrown up in her mouth more time than she can count, and the acidic taste of bile has left permanent traces on her tongue.

About ten minutes in was when she had begun to feel the beginnings of a massive headache. And now, an hour later minutes later, her headache has turned to stomach cramps and nausea, and the three people in front of her talking so enthusiastically, reminiscing about their times of the past did nothing but to continually grate on her ears and worsen the pain. So sue her if she complained about this trip because she said the tour bus wasn’t a good idea and she was in pain and she was definitely not in a pleasant mood.

Not that Joan was ever one to complain out loud. No, never Joan Meutas, the pacifist, the timid little deer, the one who always has to play devil’s advocate. She would never speak up about what was bothering her.

Which was exactly why she was curled against the wall of the bus, whimpering quietly to herself.

It did not help that the effects of the painkillers were not as strong as she had expected, and she would have to wait four hours till the next dosage. She would have happily downed five pills at once but the director was hellbent on her being there for performances since it would be harder for her dep to show up. And if she died of a medicine overdose, she knew full well he would come to purgatory and beat her to death for doing that to the show.

Resting her head against the window pane, Joan closed her eyes and tried to block out the sounds around her. Just her luck to have forgotten her earbuds, though she had a feeling music wouldn’t even help her at this point. There was really nothing much to do on a long drive if she couldn’t even read a book or look out the window to admire the scenery without wanting to puke. Life sucked so badly right now.

“Do you think in Spanish-speaking countries, they say One?” Maggie asked loudly. She never did know how to use an inside voice.

“Let’s gather around the table for a nice game of One,” Anne snorted.

“Can confirm that they don’t say that,” Maria said from the driver’s seat.

Joan’s head pounded. Her stomach roiled like a nest full of restless snakes. She whimpered.

God, they were all so loud. At least Maggie and Anne were. Why couldn’t they, for once, direct that attention onto her? 

The bus jostled once again and Joan couldn’t take it anymore. She heaved herself to her feet, nearly throwing up right then and there, and staggered her way to the front.

“M-Maria?” She stammered. “C-can you pull over?”

“What? Why?” Maria asked, louder than necessary.

“P-please, I just--”

And then Joan lurched forward and threw up all over the floor.

\------

“Well, this is great. Just great.” Anne said. “We have barf on the bus!”

“I’m sorry,” Joan whispered, hugging herself tightly.

“You know, you should be in there cleaning it up, not Cathy.” Maggie said.

“Yeah,” Jane agreed. “And if you knew you had motion sickness, then you shouldn’t have ridden with us.”

“I-I didn’t know!” Joan cried, and then careened away to vomit again.

Anne sneered in disgust. “Bullshit.” She said. “You’re always clinging to us, Joan. You just wanted to be around us. That’s why you didn’t drive alone.”

Joan couldn’t answer and Anne knew that. That’s exactly why she was deciding to say all these things--not that Joan would be able to properly reply even if she wasn’t spilling her guts on the side of the road.

“Stop being such an ass, Anne.” Aragon said, then walked over to Joan to tend to her.

“What? It’s true!” Anne said, holding her hands up. “We all know it!”

“Cut it out, Anne.” Howard said firmly. “Seriously.”

Anne looked at her cousin, then backed down. Howard breathed out a soft sigh of relief, then looked over at Joan, who looked dazed and disoriented. Aragon was murmuring in her ear and holding her hair out of the way, actually doing something to help the poor thing instead of just standing around watching.

“Well, that should be the last of it,” Cathy said, stepping out of the bus. “All clean, now.”

“Bless you, Cathy,” Maggie said, earning a snort from the blue queen.

After everyone was back on the bus, Howard noticed that Joan sat all the way in the back and moved away out of sight behind the seat. She gave it ten minutes, then got up and walked over. Her heart broke when she saw the music director curled against the window with her eyes squeezed shut and hands hugging her stomach.

“Joan?” She sat down next to the girl and gently felt her pale face with the back of her fingers. “Sweetie?”

Joan’s eyes fluttered open at the pet name. They were cloudy and teary. She leaned her head into Howard’s hand and then shut them again.

“Oh, Joan…”

Carefully as to not upset her stomach further, Howard gently eased Joan down until her head was in her lap. She could feel the girl’s body stiffen in shock at the action, but relax when she began to stroke her sweaty hair.

“K-Katherine, wh-why are you--” Joan tried to stutter out.

“Shh, shh,” Howard hushed her. “We still got an hour to go. I want to make sure you’re comfortable, honey.”

“Th-thank you,” Joan whispered.

Howard smiled softly down at the girl, who curled in closer to her like a kitten seeking warmth. She even thought she heard her breathe out a sigh of bliss at one point when Howard moved a hand to gently massage her aching stomach.

“I didn’t know pianists like belly rubs.”

Howard looked up to see Aragon standing against the seat in front of them, a small smile on her lips. She was looking down at Joan, who was more definitely blushing at that comment, but didn’t have the energy to be flustered about it. She also very clearly didn’t want Howard to stop.

“Neither did I,” Howard chuckled. She moved over slightly so Aragon could sit next to her.

“Learn something new every day, I suppose,” Aragon said. “I got a water bottle.”

Joan whined softly when Howard lifted her chin, prying open her tired eyes to glare weakly.

“Ah, so pianists like belly rubs AND get fussy when they’re sick,” Aragon said, nodding wisely. Howard laughed as Joan hid her blushing face against her thighs.

“Ah, ah,” Howard chided. “Drink some water, sweetheart. Wash that nasty taste out of your mouth.”

Joan obliged and gratefully began to drink from the water bottle Aragon brought over. Both Howard and Aragon had to keep her from guzzling down the entire thing.

“Slowly, darling.” Aragon said, tipping the bottle down so all the water wouldn’t come out as fast.

“You don’t want to upset your poor tummy even further,” Howard added, and THAT got Joan to blush furiously.

“Aww,” Aragon cooed. “You are too cute, Joan.”

Joan's face became impossibly dark red and she folded herself back up against Howard, pillowing her head on her thighs. Aragon chuckled and played with her unruly white-blonde hair as Howard’s hand went back to her stomach.

“I’m sorry,” Joan whispered after a moment. “I-I didn’t know, really.”

“Nothing to apologize for, Joan.” Aragon said.

“It’s perfectly normal to get sick, honey.” Howard added. “It’s just your body’s way of telling you it doesn’t like the movement of the bus, that’s all.”

“It’s embarrassing,” Joan whimpered adorably.

“Nothing to be embarrassed about, darling,” Aragon soothed. “Some people just can’t handle the abrupt movements, nothing to be ashamed of.” She shifted slightly and smiled warmly at Joan. “Besides, nothing can be more embarrassing than me getting morning sickness during war.”

Both Howard and Joan look at her in interest.   
“What?” Howard asked.

“Really?” Joan said.

Aragon chuckled. “Stop feeling guilty over your car sickness and I’ll tell you.”

Joan nodded and looked up at Aragon expectantly. Howard parroted her expression and Aragon laughed.

“The year was 1513!”


End file.
